


Grand Slam

by bigficenergy



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 08:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18048857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigficenergy/pseuds/bigficenergy
Summary: Obligatory softball uniform fun, post-"The M.V.P."





	Grand Slam

There’s a moment, when David walks out of the bathroom in his Cafe Tropical softball uniform, that Patrick forgets all about the game and just wants to push David down onto his motel bed and kiss the frown off his face.

It’s only a moment, of course. His usually mild-to-moderate competitive streak is being exacerbated by this feud with Ronnie that, admittedly, he’d ignited. But as a lifelong baseball enthusiast, the Schitt’s Creek slow-pitch league was not an arena he was willing to lose in.

David goes from 0-for-3 to winning the championship for them, and once the thrill subsides, Patrick realizes to his dismay that he’d been no better to David than Roland and Ronnie. He makes a half-hearted joke about lighting the fire in David that led to his grand slam, and David seems utterly content with moving on once he’d gotten to eat.

Still, Patrick feels pretty bad about everything. David is so set in his ways and yet he’s constantly stepping out of his comfort zone for Patrick. He hadn’t even wanted to play and then he went and hit a  _ grand slam _ . It was amazing. And, if Patrick was being totally honest, it had been pretty hot.

He doesn’t say that to David, though. After the barbecue, David says he wants nothing more than to take off his “baseball costume” (“Uniform,” Patrick corrects, even though he’s pretty sure David is getting these things wrong on purpose now because he thinks it’s funny), and take a long, hot shower. Patrick takes him and a very proud Mr. Rose back to the motel, and then goes home to his apartment for a shower of his own. If he’s missed his opportunity to strip David out of that surprisingly flattering uniform himself, he figures he deserves it.

 

About a week later, Patrick is sitting up in his bed with a book, waiting for David to join him. He’s in his pajamas already, and can usually knock a few chapters out of whatever he’s reading in the time it takes David to wash up and get ready for bed.

He looks up from his book when he hears a strange  _ clunk  _ come from the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there?” Patrick calls.

“Uh-huh, yeah!” David calls back.

Patrick shoots a suspicious look in the direction of the bathroom. “You sure?”

“Actually, um, can you close your eyes? I have something to show you.”

“What are you up to?”

“Patrick, please? Can you just -- ?”

“Okay, okay, they’re closed!”

Patrick hears the bathroom door open, and then the sound of David walking toward the bedroom. His steps make a bit of a clicking sound, so he’s definitely not wearing his usual UGG boots.

The steps stop and there’s a moment of silence before David clears his throat and says softly, “Okay, you can look.”

He opens his eyes and the amused smirk on his face falls into a look of open-mouthed surprise. David is standing in the entryway of the bedroom, dressed in the softball uniform. The whole thing. From the hat, to the screen-printed raglan shirt, to the belted pants, to the knee-high socks, to the cleats. 

And he’s  _ posing _ .

It’s not quite a proper batting stance. He’s standing straight, head held high, feet shoulder-width apart. At some point, he’d commandeered one of Patrick’s bats, which he holds up, resting against his shoulder. He’s not meeting Patrick’s eye, and he’s clearly trying to suppress a smile.

“You kept the uniform,” Patrick says, immediately embarrassed by how low his voice sounds.

“Well, I thought about burning it, but I’m not positive that this material is nontoxic,” David quips. “And anyway, I thought this might be more fun.” He looks directly at Patrick now and teases, “Was I right? Is this working for you?”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Patrick manages, nodding.

David shifts, moving the bat down to lean on it like a like a cane, his other hand on his hip.

“Well,” David says, mouth twisting in anticipation of the terrible joke he’s about to make. “Put it in me, coach, I’m ready to play.”

“That is  _ not _ how that goes,” Patrick says, dropping his book on the nightstand and throwing the covers off himself. “But I’m pretty sure you know that.”

Patrick gets out of bed and strides over to David. David lets the bat fall to the floor and opens his arms to receive him. He notes how Patrick’s hands linger at his waist, thumbs rubbing the green belt there, before sliding up his back and pulling him in for a kiss.

The hat only lasts a second. The bill is immediately in the way, so Patrick pulls it off and tosses it away, sinking a hand into David’s flattened hair as he continues to kiss him. After a few moments, he pulls back.

“Did you sneak the bat into the bathroom with you?” Patrick asks.

David looks at him as if the question is very silly. “Of course. I had to get the pose right.”

“Of course,” Patrick repeats, smiling when he leans in to kiss him again. He turns David and walks him back toward the bed. When David feels the mattress behind him, he sits down on it. Patrick pushes at his shoulder to move him up the bed, but David resists.

“The tap shoes can’t go on the bed,” he says.

Patrick shakes his head, but drops to his knees to undo David’s laces. “Why did you even put these on?

David looks genuinely offended. “They complete the outfit!”

Patrick bites his lip to contain a smile and nods. “Right, of course.”

“I would have looked ridiculous coming in here with no shoes!  _ Or  _ the wrong kind of shoes!”

Patrick pulls the cleats off and stands back up.

“I appreciate your commitment to the look.”

“Thank you,” David says, sounding exasperated even as he scoots back on the bed and opens his legs so Patrick can crawl between them. When Patrick is within reach, David pulls him down by his t-shirt for another searing kiss.

David brackets Patrick with his knees and they kiss and rock into each other until Patrick has to tear himself away to pull his shirt off. David sits up too, just enough to untuck his shirt and pull it off.

When he lays back down, Patrick doesn’t follow right away. Instead, he takes in the sight of David laid out underneath him. His chest, rising and falling with anticipation. His trim waist, usually obscured by boxy sweaters and hoodies, now accentuated by the belted pants. Those white baseball pants that are currently leaving very little to the imagination. Patrick looks up at David’s face and finds him watching with amusement.

“Sorry, just taking some mental pictures,” Patrick says, sliding his hands up David’s thighs.

“While I'm flattered that you’ll use this memory for personal matters in the future, you realize you can have me right now, right?”

Patrick pinches David’s side for that, which makes him squirm. Before he can retaliate, Patrick leans back down to kiss him. He trails kisses down his chest and stomach, and when he reaches his waistband, he undoes his the belt, the buttons, and the zipper, kissing his skin as it’s exposed. David gasps happily, dropping his head back onto the pillows.

Deciding it’s best not to waste anymore time, Patrick pulls David’s pants and underwear off together, then stands quickly so he can take off his own pajama pants and boxers. He climbs back on top of David who wraps his legs around Patrick and thrusts his hips up into his. Patrick groans brokenly, so David does it again.

“Focus, David,” Patrick gasps.

“I’m  _ very  _ focused right now,” David says breathlessly, rolling his hips again and again.

It takes most of Patrick’s willpower to pull away enough to reach into the nightstand drawer for lube and a condom. It takes most of David’s willpower to unwrap his legs from around Patrick, but it’s worth it once Patrick’s fingers are inside him. He sighs and moans softly, head thrown back as Patrick works him open. Suddenly, he snaps his head up.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asks, stopping his movements.

“I still have the socks on.”

Patrick glances between the two long, green baseball socks that have, indeed, remained on. “Is that a problem?”

“Kind of.”

“David, my hands are kind of busy now,” Patrick says. “The socks are fine. They’re cute, even.”

“It would be one thing if they were a tasteful black sock with a garter or something,” David says. “These look ridiculous.”

Patrick mind drifts for a moment. “Do you have sock garters?”

“I, um… I might. I’d have to look.”

“You should do that.”

David grins. “I’m learning lots about you tonight.”

Patrick tries to look annoyed, but he can’t help smiling too. “May I proceed?”

“Yes, please d- _ohhh_ …”

Before they can get sidetracked again, Patrick curls his fingers the way David had showed him how to not all that long ago. (The first time he’d done this and David was rendered immediately speechless, Patrick had joked that David’s prostate was his off button. If looks could kill…)

With no further distractions, Patrick is soon able to replace his fingers with his dick, drawing a long, content sigh out of David. It feels so good leaning down to kiss David while he thrusts into him, but Patrick has bigger, better plans.

After a few moments, Patrick sits up, hooks an arm under one of David’s legs, and guides it up over his shoulder. David opens his eyes to look at Patrick, then up at his leg.

“Wonderful. Now I get to look at my ridiculous, stockinged foot up in the air.”

In the new position, Patrick drives his hips hard into David and David gasps sharply, his eyes rolling back.

“Should I stop?” Patrick asks innocently.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” David rasps, grabbing for Patrick and holding onto whatever he can as Patrick fucks him hard. He thrusts into him once, twice, and on the third time, David cries out so loudly, Patrick says a silent thank you to the universe for his apartment and the privacy it grants them. It's a thank you he gives frequently.

“Do you remember the first time you put me like this?” Patrick asks.

A gasp from David indicates that he does.

“Felt ridiculous for about two seconds,” Patrick continues. “And then I came faster than I ever have. I was so embarrassed, but it felt  _ so good _ .”

“Oh my god,” David breathes, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Been wanting to try doing it to you ever since,” Patrick says, between thrusts and panting breaths. “Kept chickening out. Then you walk in here with that uniform on.  _ Jesus _ , David. You looked  _ so good _ .”

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” David cries out again and then he’s coming on his stomach and chest.

Patrick thrusts twice more before he’s following him over the edge, groaning David’s name.

Once he can breathe again, Patrick presses a quick kiss to David’s leg before letting it down gently. David bends his knee a few times to stretch his leg out, still catching his breath. Patrick quickly trashes the condom, then returns to the bed with wet wipes, which David takes gratefully. Patrick stretches out on his side next to him.

“So does this mean you’ll be joining the team next season?” Patrick asks.

David sits up and tosses his used wipes toward the trash can in the corner of the room, missing by a lot.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” David says, laying back down and lifting his arm so Patrick can snuggle in and lay his head on his chest.

“That’s too bad. You’ll have to give the shirt back.”

David tilts his head to look down at him. “What?”

“Those shirts cost money to print! If you’re not gonna play, we’ll have to give it to someone who will.”

David frowns. “Could I be an understudy? That’s basically what I was this time.”

Patrick smiles against his chest. “An alternate? We don’t really have a second string, we rotate so everyone gets to play.”

“Okay, I don’t know what all that means, so I’m going to throw out some other suggestions. Bat boy? Water boy? Snack mom?”

“I don’t think the ‘snack mom’ gets to wear a uniform.”

“Well that’s rude, seeing as she’s the most important part of the team.”

“Did your mom bring snacks to your Little League games.”

“God, no. Adelina would have remembered to, but Little League was the one thing my dad insisted on being around for. He never remembered when it was our turn to bring snacks, though. Luckily, Darren Parker’s mom caught on and would bring backup snacks on my days.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“I know. I’ll never understand how such a lovely woman had such a delinquent for a son. He hit me with the ball a lot. And he was on  _ my  _ team.”

“If only he could see you now.”

“Well, his family is still rich, so all my personal growth and late-in-life athletic achievements would mean very little to him.”

“His loss. I’m proud of you. So is your dad.”

David smiles and kisses the top of Patrick’s head. “Thank you.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment. Patrick is beginning to doze off when he hears David scoff.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m still wearing the fucking socks.”

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? I love baseball.
> 
> Hey, thank you for reading this, and thank you to anyone who has read any of my other stuff here. A few people have been nice enough to say they'd like more, and I panicked a little because I didn't have anything else planned, but obviously that changed very quickly, lol. Thanks for the kudos and encouragements!


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